Search

Mike “King” Kelly signed in 1891 to captain the new American Association club in Cincinnati and joined the Boston Reds in that league after Cincinnati released him in August. But after just eight days with the reds he jumped to the Boston Beaneaters of the National League.

The New York World called Kelly’s action, a “Hard blow to the Association.”

Kelly jumped as representatives of the two leagues were engaged in a “Peace conference” at Washington’s Arlington Hotel.

The Baltimore Sun said:

“The action of Kelly had the effect of breaking up pending negotiations, for the time being at least, the Association representatives leaving the conference when the League men refused to give them any assurance that would be compelled to remain with the Reds.”

Mike “King” Kelly

The Chicago Evening Post claimed to have the story behind Kelly’s move, and concluded which team he “morally” belonged to:

“It is held by persons who urge that they know that the King signed a Boston (NL) contract and accepted advance money two months before (he signed with Cincinnati). The incident happened at the Fifth Avenue Hotel (in New York) last winter during the conferences that finally ended in the dissolution of the brotherhood. One night Kelly came into the hotel ‘broke,’ having spent the afternoon and his roll at Guttenberg.”

Guttenberg was a racetrack located across the river from Manhattan, in what is now North Bergen, New Jersey—open from 1885-1893, it was at the time, the only track that held winter racing in a winter climate.

The Evening Post said Kelly found “His old friend, Director (William) Conant of the Boston (National League) triumvirate.” Kelly said:

“’Bill, I’m dead broke. Can I touch you for a few hundred?’

“’I don’t know Kel’ was the reply. ‘I guess, though, you can have the money if you’ll sign a contract to play ball with me.’”

The paper said the two went upstairs to Conant’s room:

“A League contract was produced and a roll of greenbacks was spread before the King’s beaming countenance. ‘Kel’ picked up the money, signed the contract and then put both the money and the document into his pocket, with the cool remark:

“’When I get ready to return this contract to you, Bill, I will. See?’

“And with that he walked of.”

The Evening Post said Kelly initially signed with the Boston Reds after his release from Cincinnati because he tried to borrow more money from Conant:

“Conant refused to accommodate him unless that contract was handed over. But ‘Kel’ was obstinate, and not getting the money from Conant, went over to (Charles A.) Prince, who gladly gave it to him.”

But, Kelly quickly decided to honor the “contract” he signed with Conant:

“These are facts, every one of them, from which it must be inferred that Kelly was really under contract morally to the Boston League people all the time that he played with Cincinnati and the Boston Reds.”

The Beaneaters were in second place, four games behind the Chicago Colts, on the day Kelly jumped, August 25. Kelly only appeared in 16 games and hit just .231, but Boston went on a tear, winning 30 of their last 40 games after the King joined the club, and overtook Chicago for sole possession of first place on September 30, and won the pennant by three and a half games.

Billy Sunday took time out from saving souls in the Pacific Northwest in 1909, to talk baseball with a reporter from The Washington Post sent to cover the evangelist’s month-long revival in Spokane:

“I wouldn’t take $1 million dollars for my professional baseball experience. I am proud I made good and that I was one of the best of them in my day.”

Billy Sunday

Sunday then went to bat for the unquestioned integrity of the game:

“Baseball is the one sport in this country upon which the gamblers have not been able to get their crooked claws.

“There isn’t the same disgrace attached to a professional baseball player that attends other professional athletes. The gambler tried for 30 years to get control, but the men behind the game have stood firm and true. Baseball has stood the test. It is a pure, clean, wholesome game, and there is no disgrace to any man today for playing professional baseball.”

Sunday also said that after he “converted in 1886,” he discovered that:

“The club owners, the fans generally, and the players themselves will respect a man all the more for living a clean, honest life.”

While he said he rarely had time anymore to attend games, Sunday said he continued to follow the game closely and read the sports page every day.

“For every day in the season, for every occasion that might arise, I believe old Cap Anson was the best batsman the game ever knew. Just look at that grand record of his…He could hit anything. He used an extremely heavy bat…it used to do our hearts good to hear the crack when old ‘Cap’ Anson met the ball squarely.”

Sunday’s “idol” “Cap” Anson

The preacher then told the reporter about his career:

“My first professional contract (in 1883 with the Chicago White Stockings) called for $60 a month. That was a windfall for me in those days, too. When I quit baseball (in 1890) my salary was $500 a month. The first two years I only got in a few games and was used more as a utility man.

“As a batter I averaged from .240 to .275 (Sunday’s averages actually ranged from .222 to .291) and that was fair in those days.”

Billy Sunday

He also recounted the visit received after he secured his release from the Philadelphia Phillies in 1890 in order to take a position with the Y.M.C.A. in Chicago:

“(On the day the release was announced) I was leading a class in a men’s noonday meeting in the Chicago Y.M.C.A., when Jim Hart, president of the Chicago club, walked in, and after the meeting laid down a contract on that old pulpit. It called for seven month’s salary at $500 a month, with one month’s salary in advance.

Jim Hart

“Thirty-five hundred dollars and me almost broke with a wife and a baby to support. It was a horrible temptation, especially since I loved to play baseball. The next morning I sent Mr. Hart my refusal of his terms. I accepted a position for the year with the Y.M.C.A. at $83 a month.”

At the peak of his career as an evangelist in the early teens, it was reported that Sunday earned around $800 per day from the pulpit—roughly the annual salary of the average American worker.

In 1917, John Tener wrote an article in “Baseball Magazine” about Cap Anson, his former manager with the Chicago White Stockings.

John Tener

The former pitcher and outfielder, who went on to serve in the United States Congress and as Governor of Pennsylvania, and who in 1917 was president of the National League said:

“Pop Anson was the Greatest Batter who ever lived. You may look up his record, compare it with others and draw your own conclusions. When I say this I am well aware of the claims of Ed Delehanty, Hans Wagner and many other great hitters. I give them all due credit, but in my opinion, Anson was the greatest of them all.

Anson

“He was, first of all, a free hitter. He loved batting…He had that true eye which enabled him to hit the ball squarely on the nose. His hits were line drives. They were solid smashes with the full force of his muscular shoulders behind them.”

[…]

“He was an excellent judge of the precise fraction of a second that he needed to swing that heavy bat of his against the best the pitcher could offer. He didn’t exactly place his hits, but he contrived to drive the ball behind the base runner about where he wanted to drive it…He was big and strong and heavy. Some hitters of the present day fatten their averages by their nimbleness in reaching first. Anson drove the ball solidly into the outfield and took his time in going to first.”

Conte on Mendez

Jose Pepe Conte was a well-known sportswriter in Havana, Cuba. Frank Menke of Heart Newspaper’s International News Service (INS) said of him:

Jose Pepe Conte

“Pepe is a fellow who knows heaps and heaps about ancient history, European customs, chemistry, baseball and prize fighting.”

The Pittsburgh Press called him:

“(A) Cuban newspaperman, political personage, and unearther of baseball talent.”

In 1912, the INS distributed an article Conte wrote about the pitcher he thought was the best ever:

“American baseball fans can talk all they want about their (Chief) Benders, (Christy) Mathewsons, (Ed) Walshes and (Mordecai) Browns, but down in our country we have a pitcher that none of the best batters in the country can touch. This is the famous Black Tornado, (Jose) Mendez. Talk about speed. Why, when he cuts loose at his hardest clip the ball bounces out of the catcher’s mitt Talk about speed, Mendez has to pitch most of the time without curves because we haven’t a catcher who can hold him. To make things better, Mendez can bat like (Ty) Cobb. He has won his own games on various occasions with smashes over the fences for home runs. He weighs about 154 pounds and is a little fellow.”

Jose Mendez

[…]

“No one has been found who can hold him when he really extends himself. He has shown his skill in the past when he has faced the best batters of the Cubs and Detroit teams when those teams were champions, and when the Athletics went there last year. Mendez has more curves than any pitcher in America, and if some inventive genius could produce a whitening process whereby we could get the fellow into the big leagues he could win a pennant for either tail-end team in either league.”

Sullivan on Comiskey

In his book, “The National Game,”Al Spink said Ted Sullivan was “the best judge of a ball player in America, the man of widest vision in the baseball world, who predicted much for the National game years ago, and whose predictions have all come true.”

Ted Sullivan

Sullivan was a player, manager, executive, and in 1921, he wrote a series of articles for The Washington Times called “The Best of my Sport Reminiscences.” He said of Charles Comiskey, who he was crediting with “discovering” at St. Mary’s College in Kansas:

Charles Comiskey

“As a player, Comiskey was easily the best first baseman of his time…His intuition in defining the thoughts of his opponents and making his play accordingly placed him head and shoulders over any man that played that position before or after.

“Comiskey was with John Ward and King Kelly one of the greatest of base runners. I do not mean dress parade base running, either, merely to show the crowd he could run. Comiskey’s base running was done at a place in the game when it meant victory for his side. He was far from being the machine batter that Anson, Roger Connor and some others were; but as a run-getter, which means the combination of hitting, waiting, bunting and running, he outclassed all others. Jack Doyle, when in his prime with Baltimore and New York, was the nearest approach to Comiskey in brainwork. There are no others.”

As part of his 1910 series of articles called “How I Win,” syndicated journalist Joseph B. Bowles spoke to Bill Dahlen, manager of the Brooklyn Superbas, during Dahlen’s first season as a big league manager.

Bill Dahlen

“The only theory on which I ever have worked is that every man on a team should work for the common interest, that each man should help out each other one, and that eight men if strong ought to help out the weak one.

“Close attention to every move is essential. Not only should a player watch every change of position of his opponents…The mind must be alert at every instant during a game. There is no room in major league baseball for any except fast-thinking and fast-moving players. I do not mean that a player must be a ten-second man. I mean he must be on his toes, ready to jump in any given direction without the loss of an instant.”

Dahlen said success was all about footwork:

“A man who handles his feet well, either batting, fielding or base running, is a good player, for footwork is better than ability with the hands. It is necessary for a player to be shifty on his feet as it is for a boxer. No one can be shifty unless he is on his toes all the time, and a flat-footed player is as bad is a flat-headed one—and usually the two things go together.

“The batter who is on his toes, balanced and ready for the jump, will hit, for he can shift and swing and still get his weight behind the bat. The shifty runner on first is ready to move either way—to dive back to first or go on to second. In the field, he moves with the ball, and is moving when it is hit, so he covers more ground.”

Dahlen had advice for young players:

“(He) should watch every move of the batter, and poise himself for the start just as a sprinter does. I remember that one of the first things taught me after I joined the Chicago club was starting, and the crowd of great players under (Cap) Anson won many games because they started faster and were readier in seizing an opportunity than their opponents were. Another thing they taught me was sliding to bases, not only so as to avoid being touched, but also to avoid getting hurt or hurting anyone. That slide known as the ‘Chicago slide’ was the invention of (King) Kelly and adopted by (Tom) Burns, (Ned) Williamson, (Fred) Pfeffer and the great players of that day. There is more footwork to that slide than in any other department of the game. It consists of watching the position of the baseman who is receiving a thrown ball and throwing the body in the opposite direction, sliding on the hip with the leg partially bent under and the toe hooking the bag.”

Dahlen

Dahlen’s footwork was not enough to guide four bad Brooklyn teams to a winning season. During his managerial career (1910-1913) the Superbas were 251-355.

The first place Pittsburgh Pirates were preparing for a doubleheader with the New York Giants on August 24, 1921, when the team took time out to pose for a photo. The Pittsburgh Leader said:

“Someone happened to mention, as the photographer moved away, that for a whole team to watch the little birdie at once was a jinx.”

The team promptly went out and dropped the doubleheader, then lost three more to the Giants. The paper said of the five straight losses:

“It doesn’t prove the jinx exists. But it does prove that to imbue a man or a team of men, with the idea that they can’t win a ballgame generally means that they won’t win. For their pep and enthusiasm has been stolen.”

The Pirates finished second, four games behind the Giants.

Anson’s All-Time Team, 1918

While visiting St. Paul, Minnesota in the summer of 1918, Cap Anson was asked by a reporter for The Associated Press to name his all-time all-star team. The reporter said the team was most “notable for including in its makeup not one” current player:

In December of 1917, thirty-eight-year-old sportswriter Grantland Rice of The New York Tribune enlisted in the army–he spent fourteen months in Europe. Before he left he laid out the case, over two weeks, for an all-time all-star team in the pages of the paper:

“As we expect to be held to a restricted output very shortly, due to the exigencies and demands of the artillery game, this seemed to be a fairly fitting period to unfold the results.”

Grantland Rice

Rice said the selections were “not solely from our own limited observation, extending over a period of some eighteen or twenty years,” but included input from players, managers and sportswriters, including “such veterans” as Frank Bancroft and Clark Griffith, and baseball writers Joe Vila of The New York Sun, Bill Hanna of The New York Herald and Sam Crane, the former major league infielder turned sportswriter of The New York Journal.

Rice said only one of the nine selections “(S)eems to rest in doubt. The others were almost unanimously backed.”

“In the matter of physical stamina, Cy Young has outclassed the field. Cy won more games than almost any others ever pitched.

“(But) For all the pitching mixtures and ingredients, stamina, steadiness, brilliancy, brains, control, speed, curves, coolness, courage, is generally agreed that no man has ever yet surpassed Christy Mathewson…there has never been another who had more brains or as fine control.”

“Radbourn was more like Mathewson than any pitcher I ever saw. I mean by that, that like Matty, he depended largely upon brains and courage and control, like Matty he had fine speed and the rest of it. Radbourn was a great pitcher, the best of the old school beyond any doubt.”

“He was a great mechanical catcher. He had a wonderful arm and no man was surer of the bat…he had a keen brain, uncanny judgment, and those who worked with him say that he had no rival at diagnosing the weakness of opposing batsman, or at handling his pitchers with rare skill.”

Kling was the second choice:

“Kling was fairly close…a fine thrower, hard hitter, and brilliant strategist…But as brilliant as Kling was over a span of years, we found no one who placed him over the immortal Buck.”

1B Fred Tenney

First Base was the one position with “the greatest difference of opinion,” among Rice and the others:

“There have been fewer great third basemen in baseball than at any other position, for there have been periods when five or six years would pass without an undoubted star.”

The final decision came down to “John McGraw vs. Jimmy Collins.” McGraw was “a great hitter, a fine bunter and a star base runner,” while “Collins was a marvel and a marvel over a long stretch…he was good enough to carve out a .330 or a .340 clip (and) when it came to infield play at third he certainly had no superior…So taking his combined fielding and batting ability against that of McGraw and Collins wins the place. McGraw was a trifle his superior on the attack. But as a fielder there was no great comparison, Collins leading by a number of strides.”

OF Ty Cobb

“The supply here is overwhelming…Yet the remarkable part is that when we offered our selection to a jury of old players, managers and veteran scribes there was hardly a dissenting vote.”

[…]

“Number one answers itself. A man who can lead the league nine years in succession at bat.

“A man who can lead his league at bat in ten out of eleven seasons.

“A man who can run up the record for base hits and runs scored in a year—also runs driven in.

“The man who gives Cobb the hardest battle is Tris Speaker. Veteran observers like Clark Griffith all say that Speaker is the greatest defensive outfielder baseball has ever exploited…Speaker can cover more ground before a ball is pitched than any man. And if he guesses incorrectly, which he seldom does, he can go a mile to retrieve his error in judgment…And to this impressive defensive strength must be added the fact he is a powerful hitter, not only a normal .350 man, but one who can tear the hide off the ball for extra bases.”

“Ask Joe Kelley, or John McGraw, or others who played with Keeler and who remember his work.

“Keeler was one of the most scientific batsmen that ever chopped a timely single over third or first…And Keeler was also a great defensive outfielder, a fine ground coverer—a great thrower—a star in every department of play.

“Mike Kelly was a marvel, more of an all-around sensation, but those who watched the work of both figure Keeler on top.”

Rice said of the nine selections:

“The above is the verdict arrived at after discussions with managers, players and writers who have seen a big section of the long parade, and who are therefore able to compare the stars of today with the best men of forgotten years.

“Out of the thousands of fine players who have made up the roll call of the game since 1870 it would seem impossible to pick nine men and award them the olive wreath. In several instances the margin among three or four is slight.

“But as far a s deductions, observations, records and opinions go, the cast named isn’t very far away from an all-time all-star round up, picked for ability, stamina, brains, aggressiveness and team value.

“Sunday tells young men now ‘to play the game’ uprightly. This is how Sunday played it in 1885:

“The Browns and Chicago were playing for the world’s championship before 10,000 persons, who paid from 25 to 75 cents to see the game…The Browns kicked on the decisions of Umpire (David F. “Dave”) Sullivan and refused to play unless he retired from the game. They could not do that sort of thing on the lots nowadays. When Sullivan retired, (Cap) Anson and (Charles) Comiskey, the leaders of the teams, agreed that William Medart, a pulley manufacturer of St. Louis, should umpire. Medart was a spectator at the games. He put on a mask and a protector and proceeded to umpire. “

William Medart

In the ninth inning of game four, with Chicago trailing 3 to 2, White Stockings pitcher Jim McCormick reached first on an error by Comiskey. A contemporary account in The Chicago Tribune said:

“(McCormick) was standing with one foot on the bag when Comiskey made a motion to throw the ball. He never moved, but by force of habit Comiskey touched him and laughed. The umpire, who was not appealed to at all, electrified the spectators and players by calling McCormick out.”

Sheridan said, “This is how a baseball reporter of the day (from The Post-Dispatch) described what happened next:

“Sunday, fists clenched, eyes blazing, ran at Medart and cried, ‘Robber, robber. That man is not out.’ Medart advanced to meet Sunday with firm step and beetling brow and aid, ‘If you say that man was not out you are a liar.’ ‘Who says that I am liar?’ Cried Sunday. ‘I do,’ said Medart, assuming a posture of defense. ‘I’ll make you pay for that,’ cried Sunday, advancing on Medart. ‘You can collect now,’ replied Medart, boldly.”

McCormick also attempted to attack Medart, but Mike “King” Kelly “(S)topped McCormick and then forced Sunday to sit down.”

But the future evangelist could not be calmed down:

“Sunday’s eyes were blazing and his teeth were set. When he sat down he continued to abuse Medart, who said, “Shut up your mouth, there Sunday, or I’ll put you off the field.’ Sunday shut up his mouth, but continued to glare at Medart.”

Medart, before his death in 1913, described the scene to Sheridan:

“Billy was a cocky guy in those days and was not disposed to back down for any man. Rather fancied himself. I was somewhat of an athlete, gymnast and boxer. I fancied myself, too. I am sure that Sunday and I would have collided had it not been for Mike Kelly.

“Sunday was livid with rage. I was mad myself. I did not seek the job of umpiring. I only took it to ensure the progress of the game. I was there as a mere spectator. Probably I was the only responsible man in the stand that was known to the managers of both teams, and, therefore, acceptable to them. I did the best I could, but I have no doubt my work was bad. I had not umpired ten games in my life. I was just an amateur with a taste for ball games(Medart had umpired National League games in 1876-77 and worked at least one more St. Louis game in 1887).”

Sheridan said the man responsible for keeping Sunday and Medart from coming to blows, was also the first, and a somewhat unlikely, supporter when Sunday was “saved.”.

“Most of the baseball players of the day were men who lived lightly. Among the gayest and lightest of the lot was Mike Kelly, the famous $10,000 beauty, by many said to have been the greatest of all baseball players. Kelly had been reared in the Roman Catholic faith, but the “king” of the ballplayers was not overburdened with religion. Ballplayers all speak well of Kelly. He is their idol. He was wild and wooly, he lived life and died at 35 [sic, 36], but he was sweet to all men. Most of the ballplayers of Sunday’s day were wont to ridicule him for his conversion at first. All but Kelly, the wildest of the wild.”

Mike “King” Kelly

According to Sunday:

“Kelly was the first man to meet me after the news of the conversion became public. He shook me by the hand and said, ‘Bill, I am not much on religion myself, but I am strong for a man who honestly believes.

“After that, the boys all were for me. Whatever Kelly said was law with them.”

As for Sunday’s ability as a player, Sheridan said:

“Many people say Sunday is a great evangelist. He was not a great baseball player. One of his many biographers says that Sunday always tried to hit the baseball where it would hurt his opponents most and help his friends most. The fact of the matter is that Sunday was lucky to hit the ball at all…(I)t is certain that, not at any time, was Sunday’s bat feared by opposing pitchers or players.

Billy Sunday

“Nor was the evangelist-to-be a great fielder or runner. He was very fast on his feet. That helped him a lot (and) in fact was his best asset as a ballplayer…He could outrun such men as Curt Welch and Dickey Johnston 3 yards to 2 yards, but Welch and Johnston could outfield Sunday, for they got quicker starts on batted balls than Sunday. When it came to baserunning much slower men could beat Sunday because they knew when to run and how to get a good start on the pitcher. Sunday never learned these little niceties of baseball. As a matter of fact, hey are not really learned. They are like Sunday’s gift for preaching, something given a man, his genius.”

“He played by intuition, by instinct. Signs were not part of his equipment. Most infielders use signals. Kelly and I never had one. We never tried them. He was alive to every contingency which could come up in a ball game. His wonderful powers of perception enabled him to protect every angle of the game and he would do so. I studied Kel and got so close to him mentally that I knew just what he was liable to do and was always prepared to back him up.

Mike “King” Kelly

“He was the creator and the father of more original fine points than any man who ever stood behind a mask. At the bat, on the base lines, in the coacher’s box, wherever you put Kelly, he was per se, a king. His strongest playing point was that he was always ready. He could take advantage of a misplay which others wouldn’t see until afterward. He was a marvel at base running. By that I do not mean that he had any extraordinary speed, but he out generaled, if I may use the term, the men who were chasing him. He could cut the base and do it in such a manner that he would get away with it.

Fred Pfeffer

“He played the umpire as intelligently as he did the opposing nine. He would make a friend of him, engage his confidence, and in various ways get the best of close decisions.

Share this:

In 1905, Elmer Ellsworth Bates of The Cleveland Press told a story about how the game had changed over the past two decades.

Ellsworth said that during the 1880s he witnessed an incident at the Café in Cleveland’s Weddell House Hotel involving Mike “King” Kelly. Bates said he was with umpire “Honest John” Gaffney when Kelly came in:

Mike “King” Kelly

“(T)he swing doors flew open and about half of the players of the Chicago team—Kelly in the lead—marched in. The game between Cleveland and Chicago that day had been a stormy one, and Gaffney had assessed fines right and left.

“Kelly had been the chief offender. Drawing at first a $5 penalty for disputing a decision, he had called Gaffney names at $5 or $10 a name until he owed the National League $50. Kelly had left the ballpark vowing he would attend to Gaffney later. I expected trouble when Kelly came in, for it wasn’t his first visit to that part of the hotel that night.

“’Hello, Gaf,’ Mike shouted, as he saw the umpire. ‘Have a drink—you and your handsome friend.’

“’Much obliged Kel’ said Gaffney: ‘I’m not drinking today.’

“’Say Gaf,’ Kelly went on, ‘how much did you soak me today.’

“’An even $50,’ replied Gaffney, very quietly.

John Gaffney

“’Reported it to the boss yet?’

“Not yet,’ was the reply.

“’Tell you what I’ll do,’ said Kelly, grabbing up the dice box. I’ll shake you to see whether it’s $100 or nothing.’

“Gaffney started to walk away.

“’Come on, Gaf, be game,’ the other players called.

“So he came back.

“’Horses?’ asked Gaffney.

“Nope,’ said Kelly. ‘One throw.’

“Gaffney spilled out aces and fours. Kelly turned the box bottom side up, and, lifting it again, disclosed three fives.

“All right,’ said Gaffney, ‘the fine don’t go.’

“’Come on there, fellers,’ shouted Kel, starting for the door, ‘let’s go out and spend that $50.’”

In 1907 Hugh Fullerton wrote in The Chicago Herald about the outside influences that he felt did the most damage to a ballclub:

Hugh Fullerton

“There are dozens of things that happen to keep a team from landing a pennant about which the general public is entirely ignorant and which never can be explained clearly.

“For instance, one of the mysteries of baseball was the breaking up of the famous White Stockings team.

“Hundreds and thousands of people cursed the management of the Chicagos for selling off star players and wrecking the club—and few ever knew why it was. The management felt worse over it than the fans possibly could feel—but it was inevitable. A scandal in the club concerning two members and the wife of one of them started the trouble. Threats to kill each other were made—and the disruption of the club became absolutely necessary. The sale of (Mike “King”) Kelly (1887) and (John) Clarkson (1888) was the beginning –and after a time all parties to the scandal were let out—and Chicago was given a decade of losing clubs.”

Mike “King” Kelly

He claimed the reason for the breakup of the White Stockings was a common one.

“Women have been the cause of ruin of more good clubs than anything else. They need not necessarily be bad women. There was one club in the old twelve-club National League which, for two years, was knocked out of all chances of winning merely because the wife of one of the players was an inveterate gossip. She knew everything that went on in the club and retained it until she had half the players up in arms against each other.

“One of the best manager s in the country today frowns upon all women and his players, under his direction, forbid their wives to mention the subject of baseball to each other. The result is that there is the best feeling in the club. Almost every member of the team is married, their wives meet socially at all times—and baseball is tabooed by common consent.

“I know a catcher, one of the toughest, hardiest fellows in the business, who nearly was ruined as a catcher by the women of the club. He was so strong and tough that you couldn’t have dented him with an ax, but one day he split his hand a little bit. He thought nothing of it, and was ready to catch the next day when the women got to pitying him and telling him he ought to take good care of it. When he left the grounds he had tied up the injured place with a rag—and was all right. By the next morning he was ready to go to the hospital—and he did lay off for two weeks, all because the women made a martyr of him.”

But, according to Fullerton, there was something almost as bad for a baseball team as women:

“Horse racing, however, has ruined almost as many clubs as women have. Once a team gets interested in horse racing, and so far as winning goes, it might as well disband.

“One of the greatest troubles in the present New York National League team is the devotion of some of the players to the racing game. (John) McGraw himself has been so successful at it that baseball has become sort of a side issue. Many of his players have followed his example, and the result is they think more of horse racing than of baseball.

“Racing did more to wreck (Ned) Hanlon’s championship Brooklyn team than any other thing. The Washington Park grounds are so close to the Brighton and Sheepshead tracks that players could see two or three races before the game. Eventually baseball was forgotten and the conversation in the clubhouse dwelt only on horse racing.

“(Cap) Anson had a crowd of horse race fans for several years, and the result on the work of the team was something frightful. They talked horse racing even on the field, and had the telegraph operators throwing out messages telling what horses had won.”

And, he said, gambling in general had been detrimental to the Giants during the years Andrew Freedman owned the club (1895-1902):

“There always was a crap game or a poker game in the clubhouse, and the stakes were so high that bitter feeling was endangered.”

While Fullerton, for the most part, avoided naming names, he did single out one former Chicago manager, who had died five years earlier, for presiding over teams that were “ruined” by gambling:

“The Chicago team the second year under Tom Burns (1899) was wrecked by the same sort of deal, the manager setting a bad example in that respect. Burns also was charged by the Pittsburgh owners with ruining their club, when he was manager (1892), by permitting and encouraging gambling.”